Honour Amongst Assassin's
by AoUsagi
Summary: 1884, London. Who knew something as small as the golden seal kept in her fathers strongbox could hold such power that the fate of mankind hangs in the balance between two sides of a war hundreds of years old…Beth Linnburg is about to discover she's of no ordinary family heritage…


-:- **Honour Amongst Assassin's**-:-  
.:_An Assassin's Creed Fan Fiction:._

_**Author: **__AoUsagi_

_**Summary: **__1884, London. Who knew something as small as the golden seal kept in her fathers strongbox could hold such power that the fate of mankind hangs in the balance between two sides of a war hundreds of years old…Beth Linnburg is about to discover she's of no ordinary family heritage…_

_**Rating:**__ M _

_**Recommended Soundtrack:**__ '__Assassin's Creed II OST__' & '__Sopor Aeturnus and the Ensemble of Shadows__' _

_**BeforeNote:**_

I'd like to make something very clear.

I have not yet played the entirity of the series; i'm working my way through it and am currently playing through AC III.

The back-story for this fanfiction will be vague in these areas, and this is set in Victorian London.

SO.

An Assassin's Creed fanfiction? Moi? I must have lost my mind. All that fancing parkour running and knifethrowing has my head in a tizzy. But seriously. This series has so far been very good, and like most fans I'm now going to try my hand at writing my own story. This could either be great or might be really bad, having not yet played through the all the games yet. However I shall give it my best shot!

_- Mercy_

…

_No matter how much I love the AssCreed II Soundtrack, the first game will always be my favourite, and Altair will always be the best assassin~ :3_

* * *

**Chapter One**

**-:-**

Snowfall always seemed to dampen the noise level in the city, even when the brightest and most festive of parties were in full swing. It was a fairly quiet winters evening within the depths of London – the foot-deep snow kept most people at bay within their houses, with curtains drawn and oil lamps lit. However there was a buzzing life of the underworld; a world set apart from the rest by the laughter and merrymaking of those less fortunate, celebrating the life they lived merely because they were living. The poor, the measly, the disease ridden – no one was turned away from the barrel fires under the bridges, the unused cellars which had fallen to their hands because of others unwillingness to do manual labour. The aristocrats and their fancy neck ties and shining clasps dared not to stray from the main streets on the off chance of a random mugging or murder. It wasn't uncommon for a poor man to turn to desperate measures in times of great need.

"Yes, but there's no need for that crap, you lot down there," a voice from the rooftops caught three men in dirty rags off guard. One, who'd been digging carefully through the pocket of a still, sleeping child on a doorstep whirled, nothing but breadcrumbs sifting through his fingers.

"Wha- who's there?" the others demanded, and a shadow fell over them from the eaves above before stepping straight off the roof. They reeled back as the shadow advanced, revealing a white-robed man in the half moonlight with a belt full of satchels and vials, an array of knives of varying shapes and sizes hung on leather bands and slings across his chest and back. From beneath the thick white hood that shadowed his eyes, his goateed chin twitched as he smirked at them from behind the shining rims of his spectacles.

"She's already long gone. You don't have to be nice about stealing whatever she might have in her pockets." He nodded at the sleeping child, and one of the men cautiously nudged her with a foot. Indeed, the child did not stir – it soon became apparent that she was, indeed, dead; ice clung to her lashes and her skin was blue with cold.

"Blimey." One of them breathed.

"Coulda saved a good five minutes of sneakin' if we'd known sooner." The second sigh with relief, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "See here, mister – how did you know – oi! Where'd he go?"

The robed man had glided between them almost silently, his booted feet barely crunching in the snow, though the footprints he left were as deep as theirs. He was crouching in front of the little girl, one gloved hand that was encased in a leather and metal gauntlet holding her stiff, frozen fingers. He muttered something, a prayer perhaps, before tugging the rag of a scarf around her neck up and around the top of her head, pulling it just over her face. Then, he straightened up and turned to the three looters.

"I'm not all that well acquainted with this end of town – might you gents point me in the direction of Aberdeen Street?" he asked politely, as if he hadn't just been holding a dead childs hand. The three man shuffled back slightly.

"Erm, head up to the clock tower," one of them coughed. "An', uh, follow West Ave' til you get t'the crossroad. Aberdeen comes off onna dem."

"Thank you kindly," the stranger tipped his hood to them, before gently pushing them aside and striding away into the street. He took a moment to look around, orient himself, before he took a run at the building he'd leapt down from.

"Ere!" one of the homeless men cried out as the stranger scrambled deftly up, climbing from the ornate door frame to the eaves, before pulling himself nimbly up onto the roof over the gutter. "Wassat for?"

The stranger looked back at them one last time. He was too far away for them to really see his expression, but if they'd been closer, they would have seen one of mixed emotions – a little mocking, perhaps a hint of surprise; a touch of pity for the clueless.

"Easiest way around." Was his reply, before he turned on his heel and trotted up the snow-covered tiles with ease, and before any of them could call up to him again he had disappeared, taking a jump from one rooftop to the next, soon nothing but a shadow against the blackened clouds in the night sky. He was headed towards the upper crust of London society.

Going where the people were, no doubt.

**-:-**

Where there were lights lining the streets that particular evening, as there were most evenings in the winter season, there were people. And where there were people, there were parties thrown by wealthy aristocrats, attended to by noblemen and women alike. Nights of music and dancing, merriment and socialization.

But not all the parties were so public; the one that the Linnburg family was hosting, in fact, was a smaller affair than most – close friends and family had gathered at their large manor house situated right in the middle of Aberdeen Street, and whilst the social gathering wasn't as grand as some of the others, it was still a buzz with activity, drinking and merry-making with maids and butlers carrying trays of refreshments throughout the throng of people.

"Elizabeth!"

Damn. She'd been hoping no one would notice her absence, but it appeared to not be the case. Beth turned and dropped the edge of the tablecloth that she'd been about to duck and crawl beneath..

"Yes, mother?"

Mary Elizabeth Linnburg, wife of Jonathon Linnburg and mother of Beth and Beth's brother Thomas, was dressed to the nines, her gown the envy of all the other ladies present, and her gloved hands squarely set on her hips.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" her mother's expression softened and Beth smiled sheepishly.

"Looking for somewhere quiet…?" she ventured, and even though she'd have preferred to dash from the grand foyer where the main event was being held, she accepted her mother's outstretched hand.

Warm fingers enclosed around hers, drawing her close to her mother for a hug. "I know my girl, but the party itself is almost over – we'll be shooing most of the guests out soon and then we'll enjoy the last of the evening in the lounge with the last of the guests. It'll be quiet again soon my dear, but for now, you really must stay put. People _will_ talk if you go sneaking off too early."

Beth snuck a sly smile to her mother as the woman led her back into the fray, feigning a yawn. "But don't I have a bedtime to attend, mother?"

She received a soft laugh in reply. "Oh Elizabeth – you can pull that excuse when we retire to the lounge, all right? I'll vouch for you." With that, she gave Beth a gentle nudge. "Now, please go and socialize, just for a little longer?"

Sighing, Beth glanced around – she was close enough to the buffet table to get to it without bumping into anyone, and so she sidled over to where her brother and a few of his friends had gathered.

"Being a wallflower again, Thomas?" she asked, and Thomas glanced down at her.

"I've been rejected!" he said, sounding as dejected as he could manage. "Every girl I've asked to dance has turned me away!"

She had to smother her giggles as her brother's friend Ronald piped up. "It's not funny, Beth! Your poor brother has tried ten times!"

"Only ten?" she smiled. "Why, I can't believe you'd give up so easily!"

This seemed to take a moment to sink in, and then, Thomas' face lit up. He turned to his friends. "She's right. There's still plenty of girls and dancing left to do – come on! We'll get a dance out of them yet!"

Followed by his crowing companions and their renewed vigour, Thomas strode away, leaving Beth alone. It hadn't really been her intention to make them leave – she would have preferred to be able to stay close to them until the end of the party. At least then she wouldn't have been made to stand around and be asked to dance herself.

Sticking close to the wall by the buffet table, Beth fretted with the sleeves of her dress – she felt so…_frilly_. She would much rather have been dressed in something a little plainer, but to satisfy her parents wishes for their darling little girl to shine, she'd done her best not to object at the huge variety of outfits and frocks the family seamstress had presented her with. This particular piece was the plainest she'd managed to find that she nearly liked, but it was still too over the top to really make her feel comfortable.

There was a tap at her shoulder – a young lad, perhaps a year or two older than herself – a cousin of hers named Jacob. "Good evening, little cousin," he smiled, and Beth returned the gesture.

"Good evening, Jacob – where's Antoinette?"

Jacob merely rolled his eyes; the young lady Miss Antoinette was supposed to be her cousin's betrothed, but Beth knew that Jacob would rather marry any girl _but_ Antoinette. The girl had a horrible tendency to get caught up with other young chaps; she had a bad reputation but she happened to also possess a secret weapon – big, pleading eyes that no one could say no to. She got what she wanted, when she wanted. It made Beth feel so sorry for her poor cousin. He deserved better.

"At least she's not off dancing with your brother," Jacob replied, and Beth laughed.

"True enough – I don't think she'd be caught dead dancing with him!"

"So we're both safe there," chuckled her dark-haired cousin, before clearing his throat. "However, since _we _are on far more agreeable terms, might you spare yourself a dance for me?"

He held out his hand in offer, and Beth was about to give him a weak lie about not wanting to dance when suddenly a much taller man swept between them – he took hold of Beth's hand, which had hesitated on it's way to wave an apology to Jacob, and Beth suddenly found herself twirled out across the ballroom floor, clinging for dear life to the finely tailored jacket of her captor.

"F-father!"

Jonathon Linnburg smiled down at her. "Come along, Beth! You can dance better than that!"

"I-I could…if you…g-a-ave me a ch-aaaannce!" she scooted this way and that, falling somewhere into the rhythm of the music, and finally she was able to relax and step to her father's lead. "Father, how could you?!"

"What? Rescue you from the claws of terror that is your cousin?"

"I _like_ Jacob! It's his fiancé I don't like!" she objected, and her father, who was clearly far more amused by the situation than she was, pretended to look surprisingly enlightened.

"_Oooh,_ my what a dreadful mistake I've made," he blustered on without really sounding at all apologetic. "Ah well, looks like you're stuck with me for this dance."

He sounded far too pleased with himself, and Beth managed an eye roll but couldn't help to feel far safer in the arms of her father than she probably would have with any other man in the hall. Many of them were fine men, younger and older, but dancing was not her forte and she knew most of them had a tendency to be far to over dramatic with their swings and not courteous enough with their handling. With her father, she felt as if she were being guided, not rushed, and as they glided gracefully among the other dancers she found it better than she'd anticipated.

"Ah, Beth, look - " her father nodded towards the edge of the crowd that had gathered around the edges of the foyer, watching the throng of waltzing dancers. "It looks like Governor Landon wants to make an announcement."

"But he doesn't live here," responded Beth as she strained to look over her shoulder for the man her father had mentioned. "Aren't you the only one allowed to make announcements as the host?"

Jonathon Linnburg chuckled and gave his daughter a light squeeze as the chime of a teaspoon daintily striking a wine glass rang across the hall, bringing the music to an end and the dancing to a slow and, eventually, a stop.

"Friends, family," the tall, stately man who stood at the landing of the grand staircase with his wine glass raised. His name was Governor William Landon, a high-class aristocrat and a member of a noble family. Beth didn't know much about him, but apparently he had been an acquaintance of her uncles, and when he'd been visiting London he'd called in a favour with her uncle – a place to stay. Beth's uncle Benjamin was a man who worked long hours and had little time or space for visitors, and had called upon her father to put the Governor up for the week of his stay. Being the more laid-back of the two Linnburg brothers, Jonathon had of course agreed heartily, welcoming Governor Landon to their manor house home warmly.

"Pay attention, Beth," her father's hand on her shoulder brought Beth back to reality. "Stop staring off into space and listen."

She shuffled her feet in her low-heel, height of fashion shoes, wishing she didn't have to wear such rigid and uncomfortable things. They looked ridiculous, in her opinion.

"...Thank you all for having me here tonight, for showing such hospitality," Landon had started in on his speech, raising his wine glass to Jonathon and Mary. "To the Linnburg's, for being such lovely hosts to me, and to all of you, who came tonight for this gathering. Sir Linnburg – is there anything you'd like to say? Take over from me, perhaps?"

Beth felt her father squeeze her shoulder before quickly kissing the side of her head and moving away, the crowd stepping aside to let him through. It was as if the moment he left her side, someone else stepped up to her other shoulder.

"Good evening, my niece."

Beth whirled. "Uncle Benjamin! I didn't think you were coming."

"Nonsense, child. The Governor is, after all, a fellow acquaintance. I promised your father I'd at least make an appearance," her tall, willowy uncle replied dryly.

Beth found herself smiling – her uncle was almost the complete opposite of her father; where Jonathon was happy-go-lucky and outgoing, Benjamin was reclusive and preferred to concentrate on his work; he was a scientist, working in the research facilities at one of the larger hospital institutes in London.

She was about to respond to her uncles droll comment, but he nudged her lightly to look forward as her father nimbly scaled the stairs to join the Governor on the landing. "Evening again, everyone – great to see so many people still here!" he announced cheerfully. "We've had a wonderful evening so far, and I know a lot of you are beginning to feel the night wearing on – and yes, this gathering is drawing to a close; but once again I wish to reiterate..."

"God my brother does go on doesn't he," Benjamin murmured in Beth's ear, and she had to stifle her giggles. "Accompany me to the kitchen, my girl? I need some tea and the maid has no idea how on earth to brew a halfway decent pot."

Leaving her father to thank the guests for the lovely evening and toast the Governor and so forth with everyone else clapping along politely, she slipped through the crowd on the heels of her uncle, following close to his elbow as to not lose sight of him. They headed down a side corridor to the house kitchen, a moderate sized room full of all manner of cooking utensils and crockery; one bench stacked high was plates and glasses ready to be taken down to the kitchen proper, a much larger kitchen that the servants used on a basement level.

With the deft skill of someone used to making beverages without really paying attention to the task, her uncle had the kettle going and two cups prepared in no time, and they perched on stools around the long-legged food preparation table in wait.

"How has your research been going, uncle?" Beth asked, picking at the edge of a fraying place mat as her uncle rested his elbows on the bench top.

"I've actually had the pleasure of studying under Louis Pasteur, a brilliant man," Benjamin replied, and Beth smiled at the life in his voice. It was in his work where her uncle truly came alive.

"Pasteur? Is that French?"

"Correct my girl – he's been studying methods in developing vaccine's and the like; rabies is his current passion."

Beth shuddered. "Rabies? Ew." She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but her uncle chuckled.

"His research has improved in leaps and bounds since his first discovery of the vaccine; hospital's everywhere are itching to get their hands on it..."

She folded her arms and rested her chin upon them, smiling as she listened to Benjamin continue talking, almost unaware of her slowly spacing out to the sound of his voice. She knew he wouldn't mind, though – he knew his interests were shared but few others; Beth tried her hardest, but science was simply not her forte.

Something startled her – she wasn't sure what it was, but is sounded like it came from above them. On the roof.

"What was that?" she was suddenly sitting bolt upright again, ears perked and her uncle looking up, almost as surprised as she was.

"What was what, my girl?"

"I...don't know." Beth looked around the kitchen. She felt a little dazed. "I think I heard something."

"Where?" Benjamin asked, leaning forward.

Standing up and scraping back her stool, she moved to the window – it was completely dark outside, and all she could see was her own reflection and that of the kitchen behind her, and the frosting of snow on the window sill. Her uncle chuckled softly and she pulled a face at his reflection.

"I know, I know, I'm daft." she muttered, reaching up to crank open the Benjamin joined her at the window, still shaking his head in amusement.

"There are many things I would call you, niece," he said kindly, readjusting her glasses. "But daft is not one of them."

Beth smiled before poking her head out the window – the blast of cold from the night's breeze hit her full on, but she squinted through the soft rush of frozen flakes to peer up into the blackness above the eaves. She could feel her uncle leaning over her shoulder to look out as well.

"Can't say I see anything," he said drily, and she nodded.

"Me neither. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was on the roof."

Benjamin clapped her on the shoulder and pulled her gently back inside. "Let your phantoms be, girl. It was probably cat, I'll say."

"Cat's aren't that _big_," she murmured, but allowed herself to be drawn back, and her uncle closed the window once more, before dusting off the snowflakes that had freckled her shoulders.

"Now the party is over, isn't it about time you were in bed?" he asked, and Beth could feel a yawn wanting to creep its way towards her, but she refused to give in to it.

"Mm-maybe..." she turned back to her abandoned tea cup, scooping it up and sipping down more of the slowly cooling brew. "Can I finish my tea first?"

Benjamin raised an eyebrow at her pleading gaze, before nodding. "I suppose. Mine isn't finished, either."

**-:-**

"Elizabeth!"

Beth spun around at the sound of her mother's voice, and she and her uncle stopped dead in their tracks on their way out of the kitchen. Mary Linnburg was standing in the door frame of the drawing room, ushering the last of the late-night guests that had yet to depart. Most of them were closer family members; aunts, other uncles, cousins. Not a lot of them, but Beth would still prefer to claim a bedtime over having to sit around and make nice conversation with them.

"M-mother!"

"Ah, Mary," Benjamin stepped up to Beth's mother, embracing her warmly before stepping back briskly. "I was just about to send your daughter on to find you; seems we won't be needing that."

"I'll say," Mary shot Beth a reprimanding look. "Honestly. I ask you to stay and socialize and you sneak off for tea and biscuits no doubt with your uncle." The disdainful glare was then transferred to Benjamin. "You're teaching her bad manners, Ben."

"Madame, I do apologize." he bowed curtly, but there was no sound of yielding in his voice. "Next time I shall refrain from making such..._decisions_."

Mary shook her head primly and drew Beth in for a hug. "Really." she muttered, and Beth knew that her mother wasn't truly upset; a little miffed, but she would let it slide. "Anyway. If you're so insistent on slipping away then you can slip right off to bed, my dear."

Beth smiled as she drew away – she could see around her mother that the gathered guests in the drawing room were now just about all seated; some of her older cousins perched on armchairs, the lads sitting cross-legged on the floor and playing with the family dog. Her uncles and aunts were gathered on the sofa's and settees, whilst the head butler and two assisting maids passed out cups of tea and took around platters of scones and assorted biscuits. It seemed a little too cozy for her liking in there – and she was more than glad for the reprieve.

Her uncle glided past the two of them into the drawing room, paying none of the guests any attention at all, and going straight to the side of Beth's father, waiting silently as Jonathon chatting amiably with another guest. She could hear her mother saying something, but it was lost on her focus on her uncle – there was an..._urgency_ in the way he was waiting; he was almost bouncing ever so slightly on the balls of his feet, glancing around as if wishing impatiently to be noticed.

"...Beth?"

"Huh?" She was tugged back out of her stare as her mother shook her shoulders gently. Mary sighed.

"Honestly child. Come on – let's prepare you for bed. Go say goodnight to your father then."

Beth mumbled an apology and slipped out of her mothers grasp, ducking into the drawing room and weaving her way around her other family members, waving and smiling to those who called out to her. She reached her fathers side, and she saw that Benjamin had also noticed her arrival – he took the opportunity to clear his throat and gain Jonathon's attention. Her father jumped a little and spun, his surprise turning to a pleasant greeting as he excused himself quickly from the other gentleman.

"Benjamin!" he greeted his brother heartily, shaking her uncle's hand vigorously before turning to her. "And my darling! I bet the two of you nicked off somewhere to gasbag behind our backs."

"Of course." Benjamin said drolly with a roll of his eyes. "A-anyway, John – I believe Beth has come to wish you goodnight; the lass is off to bed now."

"Oh, yes, yes – " Jonathon's smile didn't waver as he bundled her up into a big, fatherly hug. "Aaaah, I'll see you in the morning, right my girl? Bright and twirly."

He dropped a kiss onto her forehead, and she bid them bother goodnight before excusing herself, ducking back through the crowds to rejoin her mother by the door. She glanced back, to see Benjamin leaning in close to his brother, whispering something into his ear. Her father seemed to pause, his feature's surprised and tensed, but then he relaxed, and seemed to laugh off whatever her uncle had spoken to him. He was back to his old self in the blink of an eye, and before Beth could query it, her mother had her by the hand.

"Come along, dear," Mary was guiding her towards the stairs. "Mustn't let them think you're faking it, God forbid."

Beth took a breath – why was she worrying? There was nothing to worry about. At least, as she followed her mother up towards her bedroom, she hoped not.

**-:-**

* * *

_**AfterNote:**_

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND that's it for chapter one!

Okay. So i'm going to be a sap here and ask for reviews. I need the feedback, guys, and I made the chapter nice and long (mostly just setting the scene and shit, but hey), and though i'll be studying a lot in coming weeks/months/whatever, i'll update this when i've got some free time. That'll probably also mean whenever i'm procrastinating, so expect updates more often than not!

Be nice! Give feedback! Ask for more! Make me feel important! I give cookies and hugs in return :3

- Mercy


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